Sometime Sweet Sheila

We finally heard their voices as they came up the stairs. A knock on the door. In two seconds we'd know if things were going to be comfortable or awkward for the rest of the evening. I swung open the door and greeted them warmly.

"Sheila, Debbie, come on in. Hi, I'm James ... and this is Nick."

I carefully watched Debbie's expression. She seemed cheerful and bubbly when she shook hands with Nick. She was better looking than Sheila's other friends. Her sundress was a little more revealing than I might have expected for a blind date.

Nick immediately complemented her on the dress. And her shoes. Good boy, Nick. He could thank his older sisters for teaching him to notice things like that—and to speak up. Debbie seemed flattered and did a little twirl with a big smile.

"You like it, huh? Thanks."

I'm sure Sheila was surveying their body language as well. So far so good. We all seemed to breathe a little easier.

I had a moment of dissonance when I decided to greet Sheila with a squeeze of the hand instead of a kiss or a hug. I didn't feel like I knew her well enough for those other gestures, yet there we were getting ready to see an unbelievably explicit sex movie together.

Sheila had on a pair of white hip-hugger bellbottoms held up by a wide belt. Her feminine long-sleeved t-shirt was soft blue with a center column of colorful embroidery on lace cut-outs. Similar embroidered insets reached from cuff to mid-forearm on each sleeve. A scoop neck displayed her flawless skin and a multi-strand necklace with amethyst pendants. The tee's snug fit didn't conceal her boyish chest—or the lack of a bra. Good for her, not afraid to put it out there. One foxy lady, she was. I couldn't believe I was going on a date with her.

I placed my arm around her shoulder. She was barely an inch shorter, even in her flat, strappy sandals. "Sheila, you look great. Nice top. I really like the way the lace and embroidery work together." I lifted her wrist for a closer look. "And your hair ... beautiful." My fingertips grazed her neck as I fondled a tress.

She moved in for a hug. "Thank you, James. You look nice, too," she said, leaving a light kiss on my cheek and a subtle whiff of Yardley's Oh! De London in my personal space.

OK, she just cleared the way for polite hugging and kissing. That's good. I felt much better going to a porno theater with her now that threshold had been crossed.

I had asked them to come by early so we could get acquainted over drinks before we left. We mostly talked about the expected content of the films. Debbie seemed like a regular gal, friendly and fun; but I also detected a wild streak. Eventually it was time to pile into my car and head for the Regent.

* * *

As I drove past the theater looking for on-street parking, there were mostly young people in line to buy tickets. When we stepped up to the ticket booth, several other couples came up behind us to get in line. The women seemed to relax when they saw people like ourselves instead of a stream of furtive, middle-aged men in raincoats.

Admission was shockingly expensive, about three times what a normal movie cost. Wouldn't that have been a laugh, not having enough money to get in?

Everyone's IDs were checked carefully. We filed into the tiny lobby, typical of a 1920s-era theater. The place was old and needed some upgrades but was clean and didn't have any weird smells.

The auditorium was half full with a mix of couples, typically younger, and solo males that were sitting away from the couples. I wasn't sure what I'd do if there was obvious masturbation during the show. Nick cleverly entered the row first, followed by Debbie and Sheila, and I came last. That way the gals were in the middle and didn't have to worry about some strange guy sitting next to them. And they could whisper between themselves.

There was a healthy buzz among the patrons before the show started. While our group chatted, I tried to make subtle physical contact with Sheila: having our heads touching while we talked, my hand grazing hers, our knees together. She reciprocated, which made me feel more comfortable. Even so, I planned to keep my hands to myself after the lights went down.

After some embarrassingly tawdry film previews, the first feature started. It had an actor playing an absent-minded professor type—dressed in a doctor's white coat—expounding on sexual matters in front of a blackboard. I guess that made it "educational."

It didn't take long, though, for a nude couple onscreen to engage in explicit foreplay. I couldn't believe what they were showing. Each new reveal made me gasp with disbelief: a pussy fingered, a cock sucked, a woman enjoying herself on top of a man—with actual penetration. Technique after technique, position after position. Worth every penny.

When the lights came up for intermission, you could feel the audience collectively let out a huge breath. The women were whispering and laughing. Nick and I leaned back and glanced at each other. We let Debbie go first.

"That was something else! Wow! Everything that was promised and more."

Knowing Sheila wasn't that talkative, I turned and asked what she thought.

"I'd have to say itwas educational," she said, smiling. "No argument there."

Whew! I had braced myself for one or both of them asking to be taken home. Not these gals. The film had hit a sweet spot between their sexual curiosity and the lure of forbidden fruit. None of us left our seats; we had a lot of pent-up commentary to let loose. No one was humming "Let's All Go to the Lobby." No bathroom visits either.

What we had just seen was an early example of a sex movie genre that came to be known as a "white coater." Producers latched onto the legal loophole of "educational" to show things that had only been seen in stag films. One simple way to establish their educational bona fides was having an actor appear to be a doctor, merely by donning a white lab coat. The movies followed the themes of the popular printed marriage manuals available in those days: a healthy but playful attitude toward sex, doing what nature intended between loving couples, and exploring the many possibilities of mutual sexual fulfillment.

Eventually the lights went down for the second feature; the murmur of anticipation was intense. It was better than the first one. The goofy male doctor had been replaced by a more serious (but no less enthusiastic) female sex doctor. Her soothing voiceover washed away any silliness that may have lingered from the first film's narration. The scenes of graphic, how-to foreplay and intercourse were interweaved with romantic vignettes of the lovers on a picnic, walking in the sunshine, enjoying nature's beauty—much more of a date night film in my opinion.

I was awash with arousal. The explicitness of the sex acts was unprecedented. Someone could have shouted "Fire!" in that theater, and I probably would have perished trying to wait until the last possible moment to leave. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"James, I need to use the ladies' room," Sheila whispered. "Can you come out there with me? I don't want to go alone."

If it had been anything other than our first date, I might have berated her for not going during intermission. I couldn't believe she was forcing me to miss a chunk of the "never before seen" footage unspooling on the screen. I took her hand in mine and leaned close to her ear.

"Sure. No problem. Let's go."

As we pushed through the exit doors, Sheila asked me if I could watch her walk to the restroom and keep an eye on it while she went in. The theater had dog-leg hallways that angled back to the lobby. When we reached the spot where the hallway turned, the ladies' restroom was clearly visible on the other side, less than 30 feet away.

"I'll be right here," I whispered, squeezing her hand. She smiled and headed toward the restroom. I savored the sight of her beautiful blonde hair and tight white jeans as she walked across the lobby. Apparently I wasn't the only one. I heard the low rumble of an older male voice once the restroom door swung shut behind her.

"Hey, did you check that out?"

A knot of alarm grabbed my gut. I carefully leaned over so I could see the concession stand in the lobby. I recognized the guy from the ticket booth. Another middle-aged employee was probably the theater manager. Their eyes were glued on the ladies' room door like two dogs watching their dinner being prepared. It gave me the creeps.

"Yeah, I did," said the ticket booth guy.

"That one is eighteen?" the manager said.

"Yeah, she is."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I checked her ID closely. And the other girl she was with. They're both over eighteen."

I tried telling myself that two teenage boys selling popcorn at a shopping mall multiplex would have ogled Sheila with the same fervor, but I felt a sense of dread welling up.

I prayed I wouldn't see either or both of them go in after her. Maybe I'd watched one too many of those sleazy grindhouse movies where the worst things always happened to the hapless female characters. What if the manager went into the restroom while his assistant stood guard outside with a switchblade knife? I had to do something. I stepped out into the lobby and walked toward the ladies' room.

"Where are you going?" barked the manager, with a menacing look that told me to stop right where I was. I realized he thoughtI could be some pervert trying to follow her into the restroom.

"He's with her," the assistant explained before I could get a word out. An awkward stare-down followed. I finally found my voice.

"She wanted me to come out here with her. To make sure no one bothered her."

The two guys glowered at me for what seemed like an eternity until Sheila came back out. I walked over and grabbed her hand. I never asked if she had noticed the men at the concession stand or worried about them while she was in the restroom. We found our seats and settled back in while a woman up on the screen lovingly devoured her partner's stiff penis.

The crowd was even more animated when the lights came up at the end of the second movie. There probably wasn't a soft dick or a dry pussy in the place. I wondered how many of the couples were headed home to try out some new bedroom activities. The consensus among our group was solid: unbelievably erotic, very educational, and nothing like any of us could have imagined.

* * *

We pulled into our apartment driveway, near where Debbie had parked. As I locked the car, I wondered if the gals would cut and run. After all, accepting an invitation to come inside could be construed as wanting to take things further.

"You ladies want to come up for a drink?" Nick asked casually. They both agreed without any funny looks. Sheila seemed passive about it, though.

We went right to the fridge and got out two beers for us and poured white wine for the women. Nick asked Debbie to go back to his room. She grasped his upper arm as they headed down the hall. Well, no hesitation there. I guess he had that situation read correctly. Time for me to act.

"Why don't we do the same," I suggested. Sheila's expression was non-committal. "I meant my room, not Nick's." She smiled and said OK. I took her hand as we headed back.

I turned on a night light, added some candles, and set the stereo on low. My arm slipped around her waist and I planted a kiss on her lips. She barely kissed back. Not exactly tearing my clothes off, was she?

"Any other thoughts you may have about the movies?" I asked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

"I liked them. I learned a lot."

"They were truly educational, weren't they?"

I pulled her closer. Our second kiss was a little better. Her free hand went to my shoulder. Our tongues touched lightly.

I broke the embrace and looked at Sheila. "Let me take off my boots."

I sat down on the bed and removed my footwear and socks. We talked some more about the movies. After setting down her wine glass, Sheila put her hand on the wall and reached down to unstrap her sandals. She sat down on the bed next to me, and we began kissing again. She was a little more into it.

I let my mind get hung up on realizing every move or touch I was making—or could make—had been shown in the movies. It would look like I was trying to copy those techniques and had nothing original. I needed to banish that thought and move forward. Who knew what was on Sheila's mind as we sat on the edge of the bed politely making out. I did know one thing: I was ready to explode. I was so horny I wondered if it was possible to have a wet dream while I was awake.

I had a moment of clarity.

I knew nothing about Sheila. Was she a virgin? On birth control? It's never easy to bring up those topics. She must have been feeling some pressure to have sex at that point: either from my expectations, from her own arousal, or from the free love culture of the times—or all three. I made a tactical decision, one that fit my risk-averse nature. I started to undo some buttons on my shirt.

"I'm going to break the ice by removing one article of clothing." But I stopped unbuttoning partway down and took her hand.

"Sheila, we should be honest about this. We don't know each other very well. You shouldn't feel any pressure tonight to take things beyond where you're comfortable. Let's face it—we're both very aroused. For now, why don't we agree to keep our underwear on? No further than that. I think we'll have some room to play around within those limitations. I want us to enjoy being with each other. And not have to worry about the consequences of going all the way."

"OK. That makes sense. I was feeling a little nervous about that."

I finished unbuttoning my shirt and tossed it on the floor. I was fairly skinny in my 20s, but I wasn't self-conscious about it. No one worked out back then.

She put her arms around me, and we kissed some more. I let my fingertips wander across her chest.

"Ooh!" she moaned, holding me tighter.

I began stroking her tits, although there wasn't much there but her stiffening nipples. It must be tough to be a flat-chested woman in a world wherePlayboy and other magazines exalted the big bosom.

She got a bit more aroused from the breast fondling. I slipped my hands under her shirt and started to lift it up. "OK, I took my top off. Now it's your turn," I said, trying to add an element of humor. She brought her arms down to stop me and lowered her head. Uh-oh.

"Sheila?"

She had the same body language she did at City Park after the topless sunbathing joke.

"I'm too embarrassed. I look like you do with my shirt off. Like a man. Actually like a little boy."

"Sheila, look at me." I lifted her chin up. "I think you have a hint of where I stand on that. The only thing that matters is we don't look alike with ourpants off."

She had to laugh at that.

"Well, yousay you look like me with your top off, but I can't just take your word for it. I have to see with my own eyes." I tried keeping it light.

"Here, why don't you turn your back to me? I'll lift your top up over your head, and you can cover up with your arms."

"I won't need my arms. Not even my hands. My fingers will be enough."

The poor woman. "Arms, hands, fingers. Whatever you need to stay modest. Now lift 'em up. Let's go."

Sheila turned her back to me, and I started to pull off her top. She still seemed reluctant yet lifted her arms anyway. But real life being what it is, things got tangled up: the lace in her shirt, her necklace, her hair. She was helpless at that point.

"Eek, I'm caught!"

"Stay still. It's your necklace. Let me see if I can undo it." I tried my best to untangle everything. It was a fairly awkward position for her to be in: arms up and shirt covering her head. I could look at her bare boobs as much as I wanted. She did have tan lines. And smallish areolas with very prominent, hard nipples.

"All right. Just one more snag to undo."

"Hurry."

"Sheila, don't give me a reason to start tickling you," I teased.

"You wouldn't dare!"

I got the last piece loose and lifted her top all the way off. "OK, you can cover up now." I turned her shirt right side out and folded it neatly.

"This is a beautiful shirt, Sheila. I don't want to see it crumpled up on the floor. And here's your necklace."

She looked over her shoulder at me with a weak smile. I needed to think of something to shake things up. I got an idea from her saying we looked alike. I stood up and moved over in front of the full-length mirror.

"Sheila, come over here. Next to me."

She rose hesitantly, forgetting to cover up at first. I crossed my arms over my chest to match her posture as she stood by my side.

"Sheila, you're right. We do look somewhat alike. Almost the same height. I'm about fifteen pounds heavier, maybe. Same length hair. Both bare-chested. We both have on bellbottom jeans."

She wasn't sure what was going on. I stepped behind her, moved her hair aside, and nuzzled her neck.

"I think you look very sexy," I said, stroking her shoulders. "Nothing like a man. You're all woman." My erection was raging as I felt our bare torsos touch. "Did you play sports?"

"Yes, some. Volleyball, of course. I was certainly tall enough but wasn't that coordinated.

"I was more of a natural at gymnastics, but I don't have that small, compact body type. Like that Czechoslovakian woman who won all those gold medals in the last Olympics. We weigh the same, 128, but she's eight inches shorter. That tells it all right there."

"Then you would be the perfect fashion model. Your figure fits that ideal to a tee. If you were walking through the backstage area of a runway show dressed exactly as you are now, it wouldn't cause a ripple. You'd look like you belonged."

While I was offering my compliments, I put my arms around her, stroking her tummy and sides. I gently lifted up one of her hands and replaced it with mine; I did the same with the other one.

"It's my turn to cover you up." I began to fondle her bare boobs. Her nipples were hard in my palms. "You like to be touched there, don't you?"

She answered with a soft moan as her head tilted back against mine. I kissed her neck and shoulders while her fingers gently followed my caresses.

I wanted to touch her all over. My hands drifted back down along her sides and over her tummy. She held her arms out awkwardly. A wacky idea came into my head. I moved to her side.

"Sheila, you've got the body of a fashion model, but can you strike a pose? Like this?"

I planted one foot in front, tilted back, and slapped my hand on my hip. A haughty sneer crossed my face. I looked like a total fool.

She burst out laughing, momentarily uncovering herself.

"Laugh all you want, but no modeling assignments for you until you show me you can pose."

She tried but collapsed in laughter again. "OK, serious now," she said, composing herself. "I can do that."

She did a perfect imitation of my pose, but she looked poised and graceful. Like a real model. Her hands weren't covering her breasts anymore.

I kept going. "Alright, how about this?"

I shifted to another absurd pose, and she easily showed me how a pro might do it. Still no covering up—this could actually work. I ran out of fashion model clichés and started doing poses that looked more like modern dance. Sheila copied them effortlessly and added a touch of élan that I could only envy. She took control of the process.

"You're not doing that correctly. You need to be up on your toes."

"What? Like this?" I asked, immediately losing my balance and nearly falling over.

Sheila smiled at me. "You fouled. My turn to choose."